


Echoes of the World I Left Behind

by Chronicler



Category: Martyrs (2008)
Genre: Body Horror, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Canon Queer Character of Color, Character(s) of Color, F/F, Female Friendship, Female Relationships, Female-Centric, French Film, Horror, Imprisonment, LGBTQ Themes, Love, Pain, Queer Character, Stream of Consciousness, Torture, Tragic Romance, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6787672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronicler/pseuds/Chronicler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whilst held captive, Anna looks back on her life, the barrier between the past and present slipping away. Most of all she remembers Lucie. But was love ever really enough? And is it now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes of the World I Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> This is possibly the only fanfiction for this film. I doubt anyone will read it, it probably doesn't make sense unless you know the movie. And seriously, it's a great film but don't watch it unless you're into really extreme horror.

‘ _Are you still here, Lucie?_ ’ I whisper to you in the dark. ‘Please don’t leave me alone.’

You’re all I have now. You’re all I ever had.

‘I’m here, Anna,’ you whisper back. The years fall away and we’re little girls again, huddled together in my bed at night to keep the monsters away. It seemed such an awful place back then, that shitty group home for the unwanted, the thrown-away and lost, but I wish we were there now.

I would smile if I could, but it hurts too much to move. My broken, disjointed bones scratch against each other. A patchwork of scars, my body is wet with my blood, my tears, but it’s starting to seem so far away.

I was beautiful once, you always told me so anyway, but even without a mirror I don’t think I am anymore. Don’t think I ever will be again. I am filth now. I don't think I'm even human. You used to stroke my hair when I couldn't sleep, but they sheared if off like an animal. My bruised, swollen face feels heavy, like a mask.

‘Promise you’ll never leave me?’ I ask, and my scratchy, hushed voice sounds loud in the silence.

‘I promise,’ you tell me, and I can almost feel the brush of your breath against my bloodied ear. I think he punctured my eardrum last time he beat me, slammed into me over and over and over, banged my head against the wall till there was a pop then silence. It doesn’t matter: I hear your ghost inside my head. I'm glad you're dead so they can't hurt you anymore.

I make myself as small as I can, pressed back against the wall of my cell, the chains bound to my wrists heavy.

It’s dark, but I can make out the silhouette of the chair they bind me to when they feed me, a hole in it for me to piss and shit.

The cement floor, the humid air, the whir of the extraction fan, the stench of my own body decaying. This is my world now.

I close my eyes.

Try to pretend I’m somewhere else.

What was the closest to peace I’ve ever known?…

Remember when we drove to La Trinité sur Mer, Lucie? When we ran away. You stole a car, and I was so scared, but you said it would be okay, that I’d never have to see my mother again. That she'd never hurt me again. They'd said they might send me back to her. And worst of all, they would have separated us. I never would gave let that happen, you know that, right? But I never really escaped her, I was a prisoner of her cloying rage as much as I'm a prisoner here.

We slept in that car beside the beach. Your _Bǎobèi_ , you called me. And you let me kiss you. Let me hold you down on the sand and eat you out, warm and we against my tongue. It felt so good to finally touch you, to show you that you were _mine_. That I could make you feel _good_ , that life wasn’t only suffering. I thought it would always be like that for us. Would be just us, that we would finally be _free_.

And all the years since, running and running and running.

But you were right. You were always right. We couldn’t escape our monsters. That was decided before we even met, the first time they took you. I'm so sorry I didn't believe you when you said you found them. I should always have listened to you. But they were a family, and children, even the children…

I think I always knew I’d end up burying bodies for you. Isn’t that what love is? That I washed their blood off your hands, tasted it on your lips, held you as you died. I knew that too, that you'd end up dying by your own hand, after all the times I watched you slice yourself open. I didn't know you'd slit your throat, but I should have, you always did what would make the most mess for me to clean up. You were wild rage and fury. You were the most fucked up person I ever met, even more than me. Even now.

You never called me your baby near the end. You'd already let go of me, I know that. Prised my fingers off you, so you could escape the fucking hell of this world. Cut yourself free.

But I remember the waves and the stars. And you tasted more salty-sweet than the sea. I promised I would always take care of you. Like when we were children and they gave you to me, such a frightened, silent little thing. I wonder if they knew what they were doing?

 _Fuck_ , it keeps hitting me like waves, flooding over me: how is this real, how is this where we ended up?

 _Inshallah, everything will be alright,_ my dad used to say, right up to his death. But it didn't save him and it won't save me.

‘I don’t know if I can let go,’ I whisper. I never could let go of you, even when I should have, how do I let go of life? How do I sink into the pain like water and drown in it? Surrender to it. You keep telling me to let go, let go, let go, but how do I let go of myself?

‘You can.’

‘After he comes to beat me, a woman comes: she told me he will – will take my _skin_ next.’ But she must just be trying to scare me. They're all so cold, like my pain is nothing. But she likes to frighten me. And it can’t be true. How do you take someone’s skin?

‘I’m waiting for you on the other side.’

‘Do you want to know the secret?’ I ask you, though I don’t think I manage to say it out loud, just my dry lips moving. I'm the silhouette left of who I used to be. ‘I know I’m near the end,’ I suck in a shaky breath, ‘and I see glimpses now, of what they want me to see, of why they want to martyr me. They’re crazy, but I see what happens. What happens Afterwards.’

‘I already know.'

I nod, barely a movement, and pain rips through me. Of course you know. You always knew. ‘Don’t let go of me,’ I manage to whisper, hoarse into the cold air.

Silence.

Please be here. Please be real. Please don’t leave me.

‘Lucie?’ I manage to whisper, the word catching in my chest along with my breath, sharp as a knife.

Silence.

****_The end_** **


End file.
